


your flowers in my hair, your touch against my heart

by butterflyknifetricks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Hubert von Vestra, and shenanigans requiring some healthy suspension of disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyknifetricks/pseuds/butterflyknifetricks
Summary: “I know you know all about flowers -- working in aflowershop and all -- but red roses are a classic gesture of romance!” He gesculated as he spoke, puffing up slightly as if planning on waxing poetic about noble culture and courtship rituals.“An expensive one.” They crossed their arms.“It’s not about expense -- it’s about conveying the depth of the feeling!” Ferdinand’s frown was almost a pout now. “Roses are known for their beauty andeveryonecan appreciate a good rose, which can’t be said for other flowers.”Hubert smirked. “But if romance is about ‘conveying the depth of the feeling’ as you so aptly put it, a generic gesture like a rose would fall short. Everyone could buy a rose -- it doesn’tmeananything.” They took a step forward, the gap between them and Ferdinand rapidly closing. “Now, if you got someone a unique flower to show your affection -- that would be worth much more.”---Or, sometimes, you can't help but fall for the hot new tattoo artist at the parlor next door. And, sometimes, things aren't exactly how they seem.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Ferdibert Secret Santa 2020 Edition





	your flowers in my hair, your touch against my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinso/gifts).



> This is my piece for the Ferdibert Secret Santa, for the prompt florist tatooist au!! I had a lot of fun with this one, much thanks to my giftee, and though it isn't what I had planned when I initially saw the prompt, I really do hope you like it!!
> 
> also, thanks again to my wonderful beta [hellohellothere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellohellothere)!!

Hubert methodically counted the number of tulips in their hands, splitting them evenly between the two vases on display, firmly refusing to look out the window. The sun shone, hot and sticky through the glass, and, despite their workaholic nature, they felt the beginnings of lethargy paint their movements.

In their peripheral vision, they could see a head of bright copper hair, criminally short shorts, and a toned stomach, visible every time the new tattoo parlor employee, Ferdinand, according to the obnoxiously large and loopy handwriting on his name-tag, stretched up to fix the _Brigid Ink_ sign.

They felt their face burn for the umpteenth time, and firmly turned back to the yellow tulips. They couldn’t believe themselves. It had been _weeks_. They couldn’t even blame it on him being ‘the attractive new guy’ because Ferdinand hardly counted as _new_ anymore.

They really had hit a new low.

They looked up and made eye contact with Ferdinand, who grinned upon seeing them, eyes crinkled at the corners.

He waved, exuberance palpable despite the barrier between them, and Hubert, like a fool, waved lamely back. If possible, Ferdinand’s smile brightened. His left arm was covered in intricate tattoos, depicting motifs from Arthurian mythos, along with swathes of beautiful landscapes -- wide green fields, deep blue lakes, bright fields of flowers. While Hubert couldn’t say that they would have ever picked such a design for themself, it looked at home on Ferdinand.

“Hubert, are you done with the tulips yet?” Linhardt’s sleepy voice came from the backroom. “Take these roses out before I take a nap. You can make gooey faces at Ferdinand later.”

There was a soft laugh from Edelgard, standing behind the counter and smiling at them sympathetically, though not without amusement.

Hubert scowled, irritation washing over them like a wave of chlorinated kids pool water, warm and uncomfortable.

Mouth setting into a ferocious and slightly flustered -- _though they would never admit it_ \-- frown, Hubert nodded a brisk goodbye to Ferdinand, who waved cheerily in response, and turned to face the backroom.

Edelgard smiled at him, mostly genuine with the slightest hint of amusement at his expense. “I suppose you better grab them before he really makes good on his threat.”

Hubert raised their voice to carry, irritation sharp on their tongue and pointed at Linhardt. “You are _not_ going to sleep before your lunch break. I don’t care about whatever new fertilizer mix you made at ass-o’clock last night.”

They received a loud yawn in answer. “Hmm, it seems conversing with you is only making me sleepier. If you would excuse me.”

Feeling a vein throbbing at their temple, they split the remaining tulips in half and shoved them into their respective vases. It truly was a miracle that both Linhardt and they were still alive after suffering each other’s presence every morning. Well, not a miracle, the credit largely went to Edelgard.

Sighing, and taking a last, indulgent look at Ferdinand’s glorious backside, they turned into the succulent shelves, walking toward the backroom.

Stepping out from behind the shelf of cacti, Bernie walked up to them cautiously. She had a purple pansy clipping in her hand, a tentative smile on her face.

“Bernie thought it was a purple kind of day!” She made brief eye-contact with them before looking away.

She reached upward slightly, tucking the pansy into their shirt pocket and carefully pinning it into place, then looked up at them to gauge their reaction.

“It’s nice, Bernadetta. Thank you.” They said, the statement both a genuine and routine response.

Bernie smiled again, small and genuine, before she flusteredly wrung her hands and made an excuse about having to check on her favorite cactus.

“I refuse to wake up from my nap to give you these roses. And, since I’m three seconds from falling asleep,” Linhardt audibly stifled a yawn. “stop drooling about Ferdinand’s Greek God arms and hurry the fuck up.”

Hubert could feel their face heating up, Linhardt’s dry tone and flat delivery doing nothing to stave off their embarrassment.

Edelgard, previously snickering, attempted to school her face back to seriousness upon seeing the murderous look on their face.

“Hubert,” Her voice was both amused and chastising. “It's nine am, otherwise known as too early in the morning to be wishing death upon your coworkers.”

“No hour is too early to wish that Linhardt would choke on poison ivy.” Hubert grumbled.

“How rude.” Linhardt sniffed. His voice curled, turning flat and dry, the precursor to him saying something especially aggravating. “It would taste like shit.”

Hubert felt their teeth grind together and sadly reminded themself that they would lose both their job _and_ their daily morning exchange of Ferdinand’s smile to their nod if they murdered Linhardt. Sometimes they even got two smiles.

After a logical assessment of said facts, killing Linhardt wasn’t worth it.

Unfortunately.

Refusing to make eye-contact with Linhardt’s smug face, Hubert picked up the roses and left the backroom without a word. The roses were nice. Prime time to put their cuttings on display, as some of them were already close to wilting.

They strode up to the shelf beside the window display, intending to arrange the large basket of rose cuttings, before they were roughly slammed into.

Hubert’s trajectory toward the incredibly painful meeting between their face and the floor was thankfully stopped by a warm, broad-palmed hand on their shoulder pulling them back upright. Unfortunately, the rapid change in direction resulted in them stumbling backward into a solid wall of muscle.

They spun around, breaking out of the hold to look at the stranger’s face, a venomous quip hissing on their tongue.

Said poisonous snake promptly died upon seeing the ‘stranger,’ a man with _bright copper hair_ and _criminally tight shorts_. Hubert wanted to melt into the floor.

Past the sound of blood rushing into their face, they could hear Ferdiand urgently reciting a litany of apologies. His bright face was drawn in an uncharacteristic frown, concern lining the curve of his mouth, hands waving frantically in front of him.

“Ah, Hubert, are you alright?” Ferdinand’s voice was shrill, panic lacing his words. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

Hubert took a deep breath, straightened their shirt, and promptly stuck their foot in their mouth. “How do you know my _name_?”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. There was a split second of surprised -- or _mortified_ , in Hubert’s case -- silence, before he started laughing, warm and loud, cheeks slightly flushed.

“We see each other every morning.” A bemused smile played across his lips. “I had to ask Dorothea what your name was at _some_ point.”

“Ms. Arnult?” Hubert frowned. “I didn’t know she worked at Brigid Ink.”

Ferdinand grinned again. “She does not. Only has one tattoo, too. She’s just very good _‘friends’_ with Petra.” He added air quotes around the phrase, an impish look on his face.

Hubert scoffed, feeling amusement settle warm inside them.

“Anyway,” Ferdinand tossed his head, brushing his bangs behind his ear. “with Dorothea being friends with Edelgard, I figured she would know your name.” He gave them a warm smile.

“Oh.” Hubert said eloquently.

Ah. He had really wanted to know Hubert’s name.

They felt like their heart was going to beat out of their chest. How it was possible for one man to smile so much, they had no idea. Standing this close to the sun was detrimental to their health.

Hubert steadied their voice, ignoring the blush that attempted to spread from the tips of his ears across his face, and firmly pretended that their heart was beating at a normal speed.

“Hm. Your name-tag mitigated that problem for me.”

Ferdinand laughed, abashed. “So it did.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his head, scrunching up his wavy hair.

They both stared at each other for a moment, silence smothering and awkward.

Ferdinand clapped his hands together loudly, pulling a startled _eep!_ from Bernie, wherever in the shop she was, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I almost forgot why I came -- could I possibly buy a bouquet of red roses?”

“Ah.” Their voice was cold. “For a girlfriend? Not much creativity in that.”

“No, no.” He laughed, cheerful grin burning in contrast to Hubert’s icy frown. “But my friend’s taking a leap of faith, which I’m sure it’ll pay off, so her potential one?”

Relief washed over Hubert like a tidal wave. _Not_ his girlfriend. Most likely Petra then, if it was during the workday. She and Dorothea had been ‘acting like lovesick fools’ according to Linhardt.

They were brought back to Earth by a finger tapping their nose. Ferdinand was scowling at them, expression mock stern. He placed his hands on his hips.

“I know you know all about flowers -- working in a _flower_ shop and all -- but red roses are a classic gesture of romance!” He gesculated as he spoke, puffing up slightly as if planning on waxing poetic about noble culture and courtship rituals.

“An expensive one.” They crossed their arms.

“It’s not about expense -- it’s about conveying the depth of the feeling!” Ferdinand’s frown was almost a pout now. “Roses are known for their beauty and _everyone_ can appreciate a good rose, which can’t be said for other flowers.”

Hubert smirked. “But if romance is about ‘conveying the depth of the feeling’ as you so aptly put it, a generic gesture like a rose would fall short. Everyone could buy a rose -- it doesn’t _mean_ anything.” They took a step forward, the gap between them and Ferdinand rapidly closing. “Now, if you got someone a unique flower to show your affection -- that would be worth much more.”

Ferdinand met their gaze with a heated glare and stepped forward, leaving only a mere few inches between them. “Any arrangement for the sake of romance would fall apart without a rose. They’re _classic_ for a reason. A motif in art and literature to showcase the strength and passion of love. And while, yes, anyone could get them, it would only make it more perfect when the _right_ person does.”

Hubert glared back at him. “Is this the idea of quantity over quality? I must say--”

“Excuse me.” Edelgard’s voice was icy, eyebrow twitching.

Ferdinand and Hubert, sprung apart, freezing.

Edelgard, sitting comfortably behind the counter, looked unimpressed. Hubert could feel themself go red, and Ferdinand was no better, face pink and studiously tucking his hair behind his ear.

“While that was a most _illuminating_ conversation, I assume Ferdinand still wants to buy roses?” Edelgard’s mouth quirked up for a second before being ruthlessly squashed down.

“Ah, yes please.” He grinned sheepishly. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time.”

Edelgard thawed slightly, giving Ferdinand a warm look. “It’s quite alright, some of the blame definitely lies with Hubert for starting it.” Her voice goes sly. “I haven’t seen them so animated in quite a while.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “It’s not often that I meet someone so passionate about roses.” At Edelgard’s chiding look, they quickly continued. “My apologies as well.”

Ferdinand laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose I got a bit swept up. Which can happen when someone is _wrong_ about proper romance.” He turned his nose up at Hubert, taking the bouquet of roses from Edelgard and handing her cash in return.

“It was nice meeting the both of you!” Ferdinand waved, smiling his sunshine-y grin as he left the shop.

Immediately after he left, Edelgard covered her face with her hands, muffling something that sounded like laughter. Hubert stood, perplexed, as Bernie scribbled down notes, avoiding eye contact with her face bright red, muttering something similar to _‘no, don’t write that part, it’s too embarrassing_.’ Linhardt was standing in the doorway to the backroom, looking both poleaxed and gleeful.

Feeling like the butt of some kind of cosmic joke they had no awareness of, they could feel their irritation beginning to spark. Thankfully and unfortunately, said joke was elucidated by Linhardt.

“That was the worst instance of pulling someone’s pigtails I’ve ever seen.” Linhardt sounded awed. “Hubert,” He shook his head in wonder. “you really have it bad, don’t you.”

Hubert sent a glare toward Linhardt, which was, as usual, completely ineffectual.

Linhardt slumped against the wall, eyes already half-lidded. “And, to think,” He yawned. “we thought you had no emotions until you befriended Bernie.”

Hubert had half a mind to deny such a friendship with the way Bernie was currently looking at him and scribbling notes for her novels down in her notebook, but the risk of her taking him seriously and worrying was too high. They settled for glaring harder at a half-asleep Linhardt.

They poked Edelgard’s shoulder, who moved her hands and smiled at him, eyes full of mirth.

“Was it really that bad?” Their voice was cautious.

She smiled gently and patted their shoulder. “Yes. Though, if it makes you feel better, he was equally bad.” She laughed, mischief lighting up her eyes. “And equally oblivious.”

Hubert sputtered, but their usually silken tongue could find nothing to refute the claim. They sagged in defeat.

“I’ll get over it.”

Edelgard patted them on the shoulder again. “Or you could ask him out?”

“I’ll get over it.” They repeated, firmer.

Edelgard gave them a pitying smile.

———

They had not gotten over it.

And, instead of getting over it, they’d argued about the romantic significance of various flowers with Ferdinand _every single time_ he’d come to the shop since their initial verbal meeting. Which was a solid nine times, encroaching onto ten, over the course of _four weeks_.

Linhardt’s initial awe had dissipated into a strange mix of irritation, his usual apathy, and frustration at Hubert’s _‘obliviousness’_ , in his own words. They worried that his eyes would roll out of his head the next time they so much as said _‘hello’_ to Ferdinand.

When they had previously expressed their confusion, Bernadetta had simply whispered _‘It’s the pining, Hubert,’_ proceeded to turn red, and run off mumbling something about cacti needing to be watered. They wisely didn’t ask.

Edelgard just smiled at them, soft and genuine, and told them that she was glad they were making a new friend. The sentiment was only _slightly_ ruined by her attempted eyebrow wriggle on the word _‘friend’_ , the gesture obviously taught by Dorothea to Hubert’s detriment, who had to ask her, red-faced, to _‘please stop’_.

But, annoying ragging by his colleagues and pseudo-sister aside, it had been nice.

Ferdinand was loud, and certainly irritating, but he had a certain charm.

Hubert wasn’t sure what it was. Sometimes it was his smile, and other times, the gentle way he touched the flowers. Most of the time, however, it was how he seemed to give Hubert his full attention. As if whatever Hubert had to say, the most trite comment to the most venomous barb, deserved his complete and total focus.

When faced with _Ferdinand’s_ attention, his wide smile and easy laughter, how could they turn away?

Just yesterday, Ferdinand had popped in to ask Hubert for advice on incorporating flowers into tattoo designs. Their suggestions had surprisingly tended toward the side of hit rather than miss, with Ferdinand grinning brightly enough to rival the sun, scratching flower names into his notes as Hubert dizzily watched his ponytail bob up and down.

He’d left quickly afterward, promising to show Hubert the designs once he’d finished, the flower shop’s bell tinkling softly behind him.

It was a rainy and dreary day. With customer traffic being slow to non-existent, even Edelgard was lounging on the counter, playing what looked like a crappy mobile rpg, Linhardt was peacefully taking a nap in the backroom _(not that anything had changed there)_ , Bernie was sitting by the cacti and carnivorous plants and writing her novel, and --

And Hubert was bored.

They’d reorganized the backroom three times using different categorizing systems and checking for efficiency, played solitaire on their phone until its battery percentage had dropped solidly into the single digits, and generally made a nuisance of themselves until Edelgard lifted her head from where it was resting on the soil covered counter and told them to _‘make like Linhardt and take a nap or something’_.

There _was_ a rather unfortunate lack of Ferdinand shaped disturbances to occupy themself with, however. Hubert figured that they might as well go find one.

Ferdinand came to the shop often enough, after all. It was time to return the favor.

They muttered a quick, _“I’m taking my break,”_ at Edelgard, to which she hummed vaguely affirmatively, head still pressed against the counter.

Stepping outside into the freezing weather, rain icy cold even _with_ the overhang above their head, they were incredibly grateful that the tattoo parlor was only next door.

Eyes slipping past the curly designs decorating the outside of the shop, Hubert yanked open the door, sighing thankfully at the temperature difference.

They were greeted by a cheerful Dorothea, customer service spiel resting on her lips as she scribbled down the pricing details of what looked like a previous client.

“Hubie!” Dorothea smiled gleefully, throwing an arm over their shoulder and squeezing. “How are you and Edie? I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Her grin widened, eyes teasing. “I know Ferdie’s cute, but that doesn’t mean you should neglect your other friends you know --”

Hubert could feel the tip of their ears go red and glowered at her. “We literally saw you last week.”

Dorothea gave him an innocent look. “And that was still far too long.”

Hubert’s eyes narrowed. “What are you even doing here?”

Dorothea’s eyes softened, cut emerald melting into warm jade, a coy smile playing across her lips.

“Is it wrong for me to want to spend time with my girlfriend, Hubert?” She poked their shoulder, clearly hoping to get a rise out of them. Hubert rolled their eyes.

“It was about time.”

Dorothea laughed her tinkling laugh. “Of course you would say that, Hubie.” She draped herself across his back, pointy chin digging into his shoulder. “Don’t you want to hear the details?” She asked, a touch of dramatic petulance in her tone.

They raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume that I haven’t already heard everything from Ferdinand.”

She attempted to pout, but the smile pulling at her mouth proved to be too much. Instead, she huffed out a fond sigh. “How could I forget about darling Ferdie.” She pushed off of him, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

“Don’t ask me. He’s so obnoxiously cheerful that I couldn’t if I tried.” Their voice was too fond for their own liking.

An indignant noise came from behind the curtain sectioning off the personal areas, quickly drawn aside to showcase one Ferdinand von Aegir. He was scowling, but his eyes remained bright.

He _hmph_ -ed, weak glare aimed at Hubert. “I _am_ taking that as a compliment.”

He turned to Dorothea, smile twitching on his lips as he tried to keep it under wraps. He placed the back of a hand on his forehead, pretending to swoon. “And darling Thea, the moment I step away, betrayal! My heart is broken beyond repair.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop her fond smile. “Hush you.”

Her eyes alighted on the papers he was holding. “Ah, the new tattoo design complete then?”

He nodded, puffing up slightly. “I think it is.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Might try it on myself first.”

Dorothea tapped them on the shoulder, magenta nails flashing in their peripheral. “Did you know that Ferdie’s done almost all his tattoos himself?” Her brows furrowed, then straightened. “There’s only one that isn’t, and it’s done by my darling Petra.”

Ferdinand flashed a tight-lipped smile, strained at the edges. “Kind of hypocritical, considering my profession, but I don’t like strangers with needles near me.”

“Needles aren’t fun.” Dorothea’s voice was carefully light, and, seeing Ferdinand’s unwillingness to touch the topic any further, changed the subject. “So, let’s show Hubie your lovely work!”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes, but shrugged his jacket off obediently.

Hubert’s eyes caught on a medium-sized heart tattoo, resting firmly in the center of his bicep. Their heart sank. It had a _name_ inside of it.

_A name_. A _couples tattoo_ type name.

_Lillie_ written in curlicue font, delicate vines from the word intertwining with the edge of the heart, roses blooming along the sides, curled together with lilies, nestled in between with the affection of a namesake.

Oblivious to Hubert’s thoughts, Dorothea immediately pointed to the tattoo, mischief pooling loosely in her voice. “That’s Ferdie’s sweetheart.” She tapped underneath the name twice, finger tracing the curl of the _L_ and the swoop of the _e_.

They were going to puke.

She winked up at a reddening Ferdinand, laughing lightly. “She’s the love of your life,” She patted his cheek, patronizing and gleeful. “right, Ferdinand?”

And, despite his obvious embarrassment, Ferdinand didn’t disagree.

That might have hurt worse.

He scowled playfully at Dorothea, then turned to Hubert, expression not quite placating, but in the general vicinity. “Thea’s just making fun, but Lillie is a darling. You should see her run--” He clasped his hands together, pride flitting across his features. “she truly is _amazing_.”

Hubert nodded stiffly, unable to avoid the burn of Ferdinand’s bright grin in response. While they wouldn’t go as far as saying they had fallen in _love_ with Ferdinand, they certainly had grown quite fond of him. They had hoped said feelings were mutual, but apparently not.

They were unsure why the first thing Ferdinand had mentioned about his so-called _sweetheart_ was her running skill, but, it had been a _long time_ since they had last been in a relationship, and. for all his charm, Ferdinand was… kind of weird.

However, it was best not to jump to conclusions. Dorothea had her scheming face on, which never meant anything good, and Ferdinand hadn’t outright _agreed_ that the-so-called _Lillie_ was his girlfriend, or anything of the sort.

They were aware that they were grasping at straws.

But, Hubert knew that they were prone to overthinking -- a vice both they and Edelgard unfortunately shared -- so they were going to firmly ignore Ferdinand’s tattoo. Out of sight out of mind.

They knew that their therapist had said emotional processing was an important part of healing, but they had emotionally processed enough to know that _this one_ was better to process somewhere else. Somewhere far, _far_ away from Ferdinand and his stupidly pretty hair, preferably with Edelgard and a cup of Dagdan coffee.

“Hubert, are you alright?” Ferdinand’s voice broke through their haze, his head tilted to the side.

They bristled under the scrutiny. “I’m fine.”

A flash of hurt passed across Ferdinand’s face. Hubert wanted to kick themself.

“I was just lost in thought.” They added quickly, clipped and awkward, hoping the non-apology would suffice.

Ferdinand’s expression unfurled slightly, and he waved away their half-explanation with a genial smile. “It certainly is the day for it.” He gestured toward the window, and, by proxy, the rain pouring outside.  
Hubert stifled a sigh of relief, then an irritated frown. They really were in too deep.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dorothea piped up, making them jump about two feet in the air.

They spun around, catching her eyeing them curiously. She tapped a rose red nail against her lip, scrutinizing gaze flicking between them and Ferdinand. They suppressed the urge to curse, Dorothea the last person anyone could hide something from.

As if reading their thoughts, she smiled at them, kind but mischievous.

“Ferdie, darling, I’m sure Hubie and I would love to see the sketches you and Petra did with the violets from last week -- would you mind sharing them?” Her voice was saccharine sweet, eyes wide and innocent.

Ferdinand blinked at the both of them, nodding dumbly. Then, as if only _just_ registering the question asked, brightened.

“Yes, of course! I’ll be back in a minute.” He flashed his blinding grin and ducked through the curtain partition once again.

They looked at his retreating back longingly, and, once he was out of sight, turned their scathing glare toward Dorothea.

“Hubie, I never thought I’d see the day.” She laughed her tinkling laugh, except this time, it was oddly intimidating. “I thought you only had eyes for Edelgard.”

They made a face. “I’ve known her since kindergarten.”

She tipped her head to the right quizzically. “You’ve known Ferdinand since then, too.”

They stared at her blankly. “What.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known Ferdie since kindergarten.”

Their eyes narrowed. “Just because you’ve said it twice doesn’t make it true.”

Dorothea’s eyes widened. “You really don’t know?” She stumbled backward until landing upon a chair, then sank down upon it and sighed.

“I don’t know _what_.” Their tone was testy, a creeping sense of worry curling against the back of their neck. Dorothea rubbed her temples, looking suddenly exhausted.

And, at that perfectly opportune moment, Ferdinand ducked back into the main room.

“I found the designs!” Ferdinand chirped cheerfully, tucking a loose piece of hair behind his ear, eyes focused on the notebook in his hands. “Petra did a really amazing job with --” He cut himself off, looking between Hubert and Dorothea with concern.

Dorothea latched on to him like she was drowning. “Ah, Ferdie -- you remember Hubie, right?”

Ferdinand looked at her like she had gone insane. Privately, Hubert agreed.

“Dorothea,” His voice was careful. “I was only gone for about five minutes. Are you alright?”

Dorothea threw a magazine at him, scowling when he caught it. “Not now, you _moron_!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “From school!”

Ferdinand _aaaah_ -ed thoughtfully, blinked, and went back to looking confused. “What?”

“That’s what I said.” Hubert added wryly.

“Neither of you questioned why you literally had the same mutual friends. _Neither of you_.” Her voice was dark, and Hubert heard her mumble something close to _‘I don’t know how I’m friends with such morons’_.

She turned to Ferdinand. “You had to have seen Linhardt and Bernie -- Hubert works with Edelgard, for the Goddess’ sake!”

“Lin’s always sleeping, and of course I’ve seen Bernie --” He froze. “ _That’s Edelgard?_ ”

Dorothea appeared to be considering banging her head against the wall.

“She dyed her hair!” He sputtered. “I didn’t recognize --” He turned, staring intensely. “ _Hubert von Vestra._ ”

“Yes?” They answered carefully, something shaking itself loose in the back of their mind.

Loud, obnoxious, and _bright orange_. Hubert was a fool.

“Ferdinand von Aegir.” The name tasted strange in their mouth, fondness mixed with… whatever made up the mess of their teenage years.

Ferdinand’s eyes widened.

Dorothea stood up. “While you two talk about how you’re both _gigantic morons_ ,” She rolled her eyes. “I am going to go find Petra and tell her about this mess.”

She picked up her handbag, waved at the both of them exasperatedly, and left through the front door, rain having finally let up.

Hubert and Ferdinand stared at each other awkwardly, silence broken by Ferdinand’s loud groan.

“This time, I really do feel like a moron.” Ferdinand’s voice was dry, a slightly hysterical chuckle escaping his lips.

“ _This_ time?” Hubert questioned, smirk playing on his lips.

Ferdinand, like the mature epitome of an adult he was, stuck his tongue out at them.

They scrubbed a hand over their face. “Well. I can’t say that I disagree.”

He placed his hands on his hips. “Edelgard dyed her hair, and you got a haircut -- but how come you didn’t recognize me?”

They scoffed. “Ferdinand. Your hair is two _feet_ longer.” _And_ , the snide voice inside their head added, _not that you weren't handsome before, but you had a fucking huge glow-up._

Ferdinand's face flushed lightly. “Ah, yes. It is.”

“Also, wait a second --” Hubert sputtered. “Your excuse is that I got a _haircut_? It’s almost the exact same.”

“My darling Hubert,” Ferdinand began sarcastically, and despite it being in jest, Hubert had to stop their heart from doing jumping jacks. “I can actually see your face.”

“Hm.” It was their turn to redden, and Hubert, for what was most definitely not the first time, wished that they hadn’t gotten rid of their _‘emo swoop’_. (Name courtesy of Dorothea.)

“How have you been doing?” Hubert asked stiltedly.

Ferdinand gave them a slightly exasperated smile, gaze uncomfortably fond. “Hubert, we have been talking for more than a month now.”

“I know. I just --” They picked their words carefully. “We didn’t you leave off on the best foot, and --”

He snorted. “If by ‘didn’t leave off on the best foot’, you mean you and Edelgard testified against my father when he was thrown in jail and didn’t tell me.” Ferdinand’s gaze was honest, smile small but genuine. “It’s alright.”

He hadn’t said _‘when you and Edelgard threw my father in jail’_.

Hubert saw it for what it was. A kindness.

One that they didn’t deserve.

Hubert didn’t regret what Edelgard and they had done. Ludwig von Aegir was a man who needed to be stopped. As the chairman of the board in Edelgard’s father’s company, Adrestia Corp, he had been covering up the deadly side-effects of one of their drugs for years. It wasn’t until Edelgard herself had almost died as a result that Hubert and her had managed to find the evidence to put him away for good.

Hubert didn’t regret what they had done to Ludwig von Aegir.

What they had done to _Ferdinand_ , however, was a different matter.

Hubert did not ever think that they were going to have this conversation. And, with their poisonous tongue and Ferdinand’s soft smile, they were terrified of making it worse.

“Ferdinand --” Hubert broke off and started again. “Your father -- I’m not _sorry_ about --” They cut themselves off, flinching. Tact had always been a skill they lacked. It was something Ferdinand used to chide them about.

Ferdinand laughed. “Hubert, my father was not a nice man.” He shrugged. “Sure, it was difficult to be forced to acknowledge that he was as awful outside my home as he was inside it -- especially as a child who still desperately wanted his approval -- but I believe I am better for it.”

Hubert couldn’t tell what kind of face they were making, but Ferdinand’s softened even further. They dropped their gaze to the floor.

He placed his hand gently on Hubert’s forearm. “You were a kid too, you know. And, you both were hurt by him personally.” Ferdinand gave them an impossibly sad smile. “It makes sense that you would avoid me afterward.”

“It doesn’t.” They said gruffly, throat itching. “It doesn’t.”

They hated the expression on Ferdinand’s face. They hated that _they_ were the one to put it there.

“It makes sense.” His voice was jagged, but firm. Dragged through broken glass, and hiding all the pain. “We were all children.” His voice cracked down the middle, hairline fractures spreading out.

“We were all _children_.” He took a deep breath, tone steadying, the brightness of his eyes glass-thin. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours either.” Hubert burst out, breathing heavily. “He was your _father_. It wasn’t yours.”

They were afraid to look up. To see surprise or shock, to see anger or outrage. To see _kindness_ , like it was something deserved, when all they had offered Ferdinand was cruelty.

They glanced up.

Ferdinand smiled again, voice soft, and Hubert felt their heart break. “I know.”

———

The rest of the workday had been both uneventful and quiet. Edelgard had sent them a worried look when they’d ambled back into the shop soaked to the bone, the rain having resumed, but they couldn’t bring themselves to reassure her.

They had simply nodded, mind awhirl with something floating in between self-loathing and self-pity. She’d simply nodded back, grabbing a towel out of the backroom and draping it over their shoulders, hands lingering just long enough for a warm squeeze.

After Linhardt had been forcefully woken up, and Bernie less so _(she had fallen asleep while writing?)_ , they had both signed out of work, waving _(or yawning, in Linhardt’s case)_ goodbye to Edelgard and Hubert as they left.

So, it was just them.

Edelgard gathering both of their belongings and Hubert readying themself to drive them to their shared apartment.

As she locked up the shop doors, her pale hair shining in the setting sun, surrounding her with a crimson glow, she seemed larger than life.

Then Hubert blinked, and she was Edelgard, their sister, their best-friend, and all of almost twenty-four -- small, brave, and strong.

The question fell out of their mouth before they could stop it.

“Did you know?”

Words spilling in the wind, the warm Enbarr air coaxing truth as it erased pockets of cold, leaving them only cozy and full. The sun flashed as if it was Ferdinand’s smile, a shade different from its position so low to the ground, but no less bright.

Edelgard turned slowly, gaze quizzical, shop door all but forgotten. “Know what?”

Hubert sighed, wet their lips, then spoke haltingly. “Ferdinand is. He’s _Ferdinand von Aegir_.”

Saying the name itself brought back memories of high school, of a loud and obnoxious, but _well-meaning_ Ferdinand and his countless cries of _‘I am Ferdinand von Aegir’_ as he challenged Edelgard to something dumb and foolish for the millionth time. But she’d gone along with it, and they had too, and from that messy antagonistic start, they had really become friends of a sort. The _both_ of them.

Edelgard’s next inhale was sharp, lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyebrows, creased together, betrayed her concern. “Oh.” Her voice was soft.

“Yes.” Hubert said, weary.

Her voice sharpened, stress honing it into a blade. “How do you know?”

They scrubbed a hand across their face. “Dorothea.” They paused. “She thought we all knew.”

“None of us knew, I take it.” Edelgard said, statement lilting slightly into a question, stretched taut and riddled with exhaustion.

They shook their head, silent.

She sagged against the wall, knees bent in almost a perfect ninety degree angle, as if she was attempting to perform a wall-sit. Hubert dropped to the soft, slightly damp grass, folding their legs in front of them carefully.

She tipped her head back. “It was nice seeing him again.” Her voice stuck in her throat. “He seems to be doing well.”

Hubert said nothing, the memory of Ferdinand’s bitter laugh and following sweet smile echoing like a death knell.

Edelgard prodded the mushy ground with the tip of her fancy black shoe, distaste crossing her face as the dirt _squelch_ -ed when she touched it. She looked up consideringly, then froze.

“Hubert,” Her voice was soft, and, if Hubert didn’t know better, sounded almost afraid. “he _knows_ now. Did he -- what does he --”

The words feel like poison as they speak them, an absolution of holy water, burning, burning, burning as it cleansed them of their sins.

“He said it was alright.” They said, emotions caged firmly, far away from their words. “He doesn’t blame us for it. Or --” They broke off, voice uncomfortably hoarse. “Or, after.”

“Ah.” Edelgard’s voice quietened further. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the dandelion blooming next to her right foot, her mind elsewhere.

She slumped to the ground, red skirt puffing out around her as she pulled her knees to her chest, uncaring of the cold mud plastering the fabric to her calves. Face tucked neatly against the tops of her knees, a smudge of mud on her cheek from a stray finger.

Hubert fell backward to match her pose, their shirt _squish_ -ing uncomfortably against sections of soft earth, cold grass tickling the bare skin of their forearms.

Edelgard inched closer, her shin pressed up against their shoulder, the tiniest hint of warmth passed between them. They watched orange-pink intertwine with purple-blue, watercolor strokes of sky and the soft, crumbly pastel of clouds.

As the sun was a sliver above the horizon, the last of sunlit rays spreading golden-bright across the purple-blue canvas of the sky, Hubert felt Edelgard stiffen beside them.

She pushed herself up to her feet, then extended a hand for Hubert, which they gladly took, joints feeling alarmingly creaky as a result of the cold. Massaging feeling back into their hands, they chanced a look up. A last fading ray lit Edelgard’s face, soft and determined.

“Well,” She said, cautious and hopeful. “all we can do now is be worthy of it.” She took their hand into her small, strong one.

“We’ll see him tomorrow?” She squeezed his hand tightly once, then let go.

Hubert nodded, drinking in the sight of her small, unabashed smile. “Let’s go home.”

As they both shuffled into their car, grousing about the to-become dirty seats and the complete and utter gross-ness that was the state of semi-damp, the sun finally set.

  


\---

  
_Even in the face of Earth-shattering revelations_ , Hubert mused, for unfortunately not the first time, _life went on_.

Ferdinand had popped into the shop earlier that morning, putting up a rather convincing facade of his normal boisterous nature and cheer. A feeble attempt at pretending yesterday’s revelations changed nothing.

It was the small things that gave him away -- the slight hesitation before he cracked a joke, the concerned crease in his brow when he feigned irritation with Hubert, the flash of guilt that passed across his face when he brightly greeted Edelgard.

Not to say that Hubert or Edelgard had been doing much better.

Though Edelgard and Ferdinand didn’t have the tendency to converse with each other at length, they most certainly had become friends. Ferdinand always made sure to greet her or wave goodbye, Edelgard smiling at him and telling him to come again as he did so, and the both of them nerding out together with their niche shared interest in medieval weaponry.

Hubert, though they hated to admit it to themself, had been hovering.

Usually, when Hubert was working, Ferdinand tended to flit about the shop, greeting Bernie before she ran away, waving a hello in the direction of a sleeping Linhardt, parking himself in front of any flower that piqued his interest and opening his sketchbook, then flying off in a hurry after realizing his break was almost over.

Today, however, Hubert’s gaze had been fixed upon Ferdinand, watching, eagle-eyed, for the slightest hint of discomfort or upset. Irritatingly enough, the slight guilt they had felt when speaking with Edelgard the day before had disappeared, leaving behind only the sickly-sweet, molasses-thick weight of concern.

Thankfully, as the morning dragged on, tempers and moods began to settle. Ferdinand’s laughter brightened, Edelgard’s smiles more genuine, and Hubert’s constant desire to check on the both of them ebbed. It almost felt like a normal morning, like one prior to the revelations of the day before, except a weight they hadn’t known was there had settled. Sinking peacefully into the lake, gentle ripples fluttering out toward the edges, then disappearing back into careful placidity.

As an added bonus to the change, Bernie’s desire to hide away from the three of them as a result of the overwhelming tension present had also ebbed, and had she stopped ducking away into the backroom with the poor pretense of _‘just checking on Linhardt’s nap!’ _.__

__The man himself had simply taken one look at the three of them that morning and said, “That looks _exhausting_.” before promptly heading to the backroom to sleep. _ _

__So. With the awkward tone of the morning finally dissipated, Ferdinand had bade them all his cheerful good-byes and headed back to work, leaving Hubert to the horrible realization that the _‘new tattoo parlor employee’_ that they had been “crushing” _(an extremely childish word supplied by Bernadetta that Hubert was having extreme difficulty applying to themself)_ on was _Ferdinand von Aegir_. _ _

__The same Ferdinand von Aegir who’d relentlessly competed with Edelgard in school, sports as well as academics, and, after getting soundly thrashed in every way, still refused to give up. The same Ferdinand who’d given all his Home EC cookies to Dorothea until they’d hashed out their misunderstanding over the freshman year musical production. The same Ferdinand who’d canvassed and convinced their school to start a grappling combat club, solely because Caspar wanted people to fight with and Petra had it was something she’d enjoyed at her old school. The same Ferdinand who’d stopped by and gifted Hubert their favorite blend of coffee during finals week because he knew that Hubert hated tea, and the school’s coffee was shit. The same Ferdinand whose father Hubert had gotten thrown in jail and then proceeded to ghost for the entirety of their college years._ _

__The same Ferdinand who’d showed up as the new tattoo parlor employee and obnoxiously burst his charming self back into Hubert’s life._ _

__The worst part was that they were grateful. They had prepared themself to never see Ferdinand again, and hadn’t realized quite how much they had missed him until he’d come barreling back into Hubert’s life, creamsicle colored hair and all._ _

__They supposed that some reciprocity was deserved. So, after taking their lunch break, they headed over to _Brigid Ink_. _ _

__Thankfully, Petra was the one cheerfully manning the counter this time — rather than Dorothea. After the revelations of their last visit, well, they were not looking forward to the conversation that would ensue the next time they spoke to her._ _

__“Hubert,” Petra said, giving them a smile, expression pleasantly surprised. “it is nice to be seeing you!”_ _

__They nodded back to her, noting how her smile widened. “You as well.”_ _

__Her smile turned mischievous. “Dorothea had been telling me you would come seeing Ferdinand.”_ _

__Despite their vehement desire to object to this description of their character, their chances at successfully lying to Petra were even worse than with her girlfriend._ _

__They scowled. What was it about the employees who worked at _Brigid Ink_ being so hard to lie to? They were going to ruin their own reputation. Linhardt was going to rag them about becoming a softie. Hubert von Vestra, a _softie_. _ _

__Satisfied by Hubert’s mild embarrassment, Petra, angel that she was, answered their unspoken question._ _

__“Ferdinand is behind the divider.” She said, hand gesturing toward the curtains. The mischievous tilt in her voice had not gone away. “It is his break, you may be stealing him.”_ _

__Ignoring the redness in their face, they nodded a swift _thank you_ to Petra, who simply grinned. _ _

__They strode forward, pushing past the curtains, to find Ferdinand studiously inking a pattern in his sketchbook. Loose ginger hair draped gently over the arched curve of his neck, curling gently, a smattering of freckles visible at his nape. Pearly white teeth peeked out from pink, pink lips, biting gently on the cap of his pen, which he kept tapping against his mouth._ _

__A pen that was significantly closer to kissing Ferdinand than they would ever be._ _

__How the mighty had fallen. Hubert was currently jealous of a pen. A _pen_. _ _

__“Ferdinand.” They said, throat dry._ _

__Ferdinand startled, teeth digging into the plush, pink of his bottom lip, hair flaring around him in a mockery of a halo, eyes wide with surprise. Teeth unclenching, a precious smile unfurling like the first blooms of spring._ _

__“Hubert!” He cried, jumping up to his feet. A forearm that may or may not have been Hubert’s was grabbed and squeezed tightly. “I was not expecting you!”_ _

__Proceeding to ignore the bright, beautiful, mess of a man in front of them, Hubert spoke. “Petra told me it was your break, and I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee?” They cut themself off, nose wrinkling. “Or tea, if your taste remains terrible.”_ _

__Ferdinand glowered at them. “Tea is a wonderful drink. Coffee, however, is _bean_ water.” _ _

__Hubert felt a familiar warmth take up residence in their chest. Ah, yes. The warmth of irritation._ _

__“Tea is _literally_ leaf water.” They matched Ferdinand, glare for glare. “And unlike tea, coffee actually has a _taste_.” _ _

__Ferdinand gasped theatrically, hand pressed to his chest in dramatic offense. “You take that back!”_ _

__“Why should I? It’s true.” Hubert said, raising an eyebrow._ _

__Ferdinand pursed his lips. “I’m sure I can find a tea you actually _like_. There is no way you’ve drank _good tea_ if you believe coffee is superior.” _ _

__“The same could be said to you.” Hubert said, tone light with bemusement._ _

__“Fine then.” Ferdinand placed his hands on his hips, glaring up at Hubert._ _

__The show of ferocity would have been impressive had Hubert not lost usage of their faculties at the exact same moment, watching the lines of Ferdinand’s bicep tattoo twist and curl with the movement._ _

__“Hubert?” Ferdinand glanced at them in confusion, and they felt their ears begin to burn at being caught staring._ _

__Ferdinand cocked his head, then brightened. “Oh! Would you like to see it?” He extended his arm expectantly, as if asking Hubert to hold it._ _

__They tentatively wrapped their hand around his wrist, slender, pale fingers a stark contrast to tan muscled skin, and Ferdinand beamed._ _

__He gestured with his free hand to his upper arm, pointing to a vaguely familiar symbol inked onto his skin._ _

__“It’s the Crest of Cichol.” Ferdinand said. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, vowels rolling on his tongue. “I got it done when my father went to prison.”_ _

__Hubert felt themself look up so fast they gave themself whiplash._ _

__Even if they hadn’t known that their own expression was more open than they had intended, the pinched mixture of amusement and pity on Ferdinand’s face would have alerted them anyway. He was biting down on his as if he was fighting the urge not to laugh at Hubert’s expense._ _

__“Is this going to happen every time I mention it?” Ferdinand’s eyes glimmered in the low light, smile a sharp curve at the corner of his mouth._ _

__Hubert studied his expression, then remained silent. Ferdinand huffed a good-natured laugh, as if he’d been expecting their response._ _

__“I got it done as a reminder.” He tipped his head back, a helpless motion, like the raging of the tides. His smile was more of a grimace, mouth peeling back to reveal sharp teeth. “Of the responsibility of power.”_ _

__He shrugged, and Hubert watched his sharp edges round off, hackles settling. The pain of an old wound ebbing._ _

__He pointed to a small ink star, three freckles down from the crest. Hubert felt an urge to connect them, to trace a constellation on his skin, to feel their cool fingers touch the warmth of golden brown and connect._ _

__The star itself was small and careful, a simple outline, really, edges even and color faded slightly with age._ _

__“This was my first tattoo,” Ferdinand said, tone nostalgic. His mouth quirked up roguishly. “it’s a stick n’ poke. I did it myself.”_ _

__Hubert blinked at him stupidly. “You got a stick and poke tattoo in _high school_?”_ _

__Ferdinand grinned. “Hubert von Vestra. As much as you think I was an annoying teacher’s pet in high school, I made my fair share of dumb decisions.”_ _

__“A _stick and poke_. By _yourself_.” Hubert could feel their eyebrows rise toward their hairline. Ferdinand at least had the good sense to look abashed. _ _

__“Who did you even do it with?” They sputtered._ _

__Ferdinand frowned at them, then studiously examined the beaded divider curtain._ _

__“Lorenz.” He said, voice petulant._ _

__“No way.” Hubert said derisively. “Who else?”_ _

__Ferdinand sighed dramatically. “Plus Claude and Sylvain.”_ _

__“Ah.” Hubert smothered their rising amusement. “Am I to assume that everyone was being responsible in this endeavor?”_ _

__“ _I_ was.” Ferdinand sniffed pointedly. _ _

__“But you wanted a matching tattoo.” Looking at the increased irritation on Ferdinand’s face, they were not succeeding in keeping their laughter out of their voice._ _

__“We _do not_ have _matching_ tattoos.” Ferdinand glowered at them firmly, heat offset by the red suffusing his cheeks. _ _

__“Semantics. Themed tattoos, then.” At Ferdinand’s slight flinch, they knew they had hit the nail on the head._ _

__Ferdinand scowled at them. “If you tell Dorothea this, I will _eviscerate_ you.”_ _

__Hubert coughed to cover up their surprise. “She doesn’t know?”_ _

__“Not yet, she doesn’t.” Ferdinand said darkly. “And you will not tell her.” He jabs a hand toward Hubert threateningly to punctuate his point. “She would _never_ stop making fun of me.” _ _

__“Your secret is safe with me.” Hubert said, amusement and fondness settling thick and warm inside them._ _

__“I suppose secrets are something you’re good at.” Ferdinand’s tone was wry, voice carefully lighthearted._ _

__Hubert scanned his face, but the tightness of earlier had dissipated. His words were exactly as they were, nothing more, nothing less. The ravine between them diminishing in size, until soon, they would be able to cross without worrying._ _

__“Oh, yes --” Ferdinand pulled his arm out of Hubert’s grasp, which they’d entirely forgotten that they were holding. Before they could mourn the loss, he placed his opposite arm back into Hubert’s now open palm, the action distracted._ _

__He lifted the arm that now was _not_ in Hubert’s grip and gestured to the tattoo on the bicep of his other hand. _ _

__The tattoo Hubert had seen once before._ _

__The _dratted_ tattoo that they had forgotten about under the weight of meeting _Ferdinand von Aegir again_ , but came rushing back to memory. _ _

__The curled letters and gentle swoops were just as elegant as they had remembered them, the lilies bright and unfurled, roses careful and pretty underneath the curves of the heart._ _

__Glancing upward to catch Ferdinand’s eyes once again, they felt their face heat at his interested gaze. Hubert wanted to spontaneously combust. They had been caught _staring_. _ _

__Thankfully(?), Ferdinand could sometimes be dumb as a rock._ _

__“It is a pretty tattoo, is it not?” He said, smile wide and genuine. Hubert could feel their rude retort shrivel up and die in their mouth. They couldn’t bring themself to give that grin any reason to disappear._ _

__They hummed noncommittally in a way they hoped Ferdinand took as assent._ _

__Ferdinand looked contemplative. “It is probably my favorite, to be honest.”_ _

__Ouch. Aimed right at Hubert’s heart. Or slightly left? They weren’t sure where exactly their ‘feelings’ for Ferdinand resided. Somewhere their brain disapproved of, and their traitorous heart could keep safe and allow to grow._ _

__“I know Dorothea was being, well, herself, about it the other day, but Lillie really is wonderful.” Ferdinand laughed lightly, and Hubert returned a smile that was closer to a wince, acting like they wouldn’t prefer to stab themself over and over rather than having this conversation._ _

__“I would love for you to meet her.” Ferdinand’s eyes were bright, his tone hopeful._ _

___Goddess_ , Hubert needed to learn how to say no to this man. _ _

__“That sounds wonderful.” They gritted out through clenched teeth, forced cheer in their voice. “I’m sure she’s a lovely lady.”_ _

__Ferdinand gave them a look that was both baffled and bemused, then nodded cheerily. “She is.”_ _

__Hubert felt like they had missed something, but with Ferdinand looking like that, it surely couldn’t be _worse_ than meeting Ferdinand’s seemingly lovely lady. Who was apparently _wonderful_. _ _

__They were not _jealous_ , thank you very much. _ _

__As they tried to figure out whether to shove the knife in deeper and ask more, or to do the smart thing and change the subject, the _clack-clack_ of plastic beads being pushed aside interrupted their thoughts. _ _

__“Dorothea!” Ferdinand said, alerting Hubert to who exactly had come up behind them._ _

__She gave Ferdinand a dangerous smile, then turned to Hubert, gaze scrutinizing and lingering _just_ long enough to be slightly uncomfortable. _ _

__Having stopped staring, she simply laughed lightly and ignored that it had happened._ _

__“Petra told me that you both were planning on a coffee date?” Her voice was too innocent to be genuine. Ferdinand turned a bright red, and Hubert struggled not to choke on their own spit._ _

__“I’m sorry, but as at least _half_ of your break is over now, and I need to catch Hubert, I think you’ll have to reschedule.” She said, not sounding apologetic in the least. _ _

__Hubert couldn’t figure out where to begin correcting Dorothea’s many, many incorrect assumptions._ _

__Hubert was not the kind of person to chase after a taken man. They were just _pining_ after said taken man. It was justifiable. They weren’t expecting anything out of it. _ _

__Ferdinand and they might have had a ‘friendship’ in high school that crossed certain boundaries, but that was before everything had gone to crap. Besides, Ferdinand was _beautiful_. It was obvious that he had no lack of viable prospects. And it had been _years_. _ _

__All of this, however, was forgotten when Ferdinand smiled at him. It wasn’t like his usual smiles, shy and small, cheeks pink and eyes bright. It felt strangely intimate, a smile just for Hubert._ _

__“Raincheck?” Ferdinand’s voice was soft and tentative. At Hubert’s brisk nod, his smile widened._ _

__“Then I will leave you both to it.” He waved quickly at both of them, then pushed the curtain aside and joined Petra at the front of the shop._ _

__Hubert turned to Dorothea, face shuttered. “What is it.”_ _

__Amusement played at the curve of her lip, garnet green earrings refracting light, small rainbows splayed on the wall. “I’m not mad at you. It was complicated.” She shrugged. “You were a dick about it, yes. But I assume that at least now you’re both on the same page.”_ _

__Hubert nodded._ _

__Her mouth curled into a genuine smile. “Then it’s fine. It wasn’t about me anyway.” She tapped a manicured nail against her lip, a wicked light entering her eyes. “I suppose this is the part where I give you the shovel talk?”_ _

__Hubert raised an eyebrow at her. “We aren’t dating.”_ _

__“But you will be.” She said, placing a hand on her hip._ _

__“He has a girlfriend.” They snapped, barely keeping their rising irritation out of their tone. Dorothea, though she could tease, usually meant well._ _

__She just stared at him in confusion._ _

__“Lillie.” He enunciated clearly, disdain leaking into his voice. “His _darling sweetheart_.” _ _

__“Ah. Yes.” She nodded blankly, as if in disbelief. An expression of slowly dawning comprehension passed over her face, mouth curling up into a dangerous smile. “Oh! Yes, Lillie, who he _loves_.” _ _

__She seemed like she couldn’t contain her glee, and Hubert stifled the stab of hurt that passed through them._ _

__Her expression sobered, a perfectly manicured fingernail pointed in between his eyes. “Don’t count yourself out.”_ _

__“What?” Hubert supposed it was their turn to be confused._ _

__She rolled her eyes. “Don’t _give up_.” She repeated each word slowly, as if they were a child, a clear bid to annoy them. _ _

__It was working._ _

__Before they could get irritated enough to leave, however, she continued._ _

__“It’s not too late.” She rested her chin on the palm of her hand, looking at them indulgently. “You can still woo Ferdie.”_ _

__Hubert sputtered. “Even if I wanted to,” They grimaced. “ _woo_ Ferdinand, as you say, you just said, he’s already interested in someone else.” _ _

__Dorothea cocked her head. “And if he wasn’t?”_ _

__“What is this line of questioning going to resolve?” Their voice was harsh. “I’ll take my leave.”_ _

__“They’re not together.” She snorted. “Ferdinand wouldn’t describe Lillie as his _girlfriend_.” She gave them a knowing look. “Think about it.” _ _

__It was another one of those moments where Hubert felt left out of a joke. They didn’t appreciate it._ _

__“But he would tattoo her name on his arm?” They asked, voice dry as Dagdan sand. Dorothea smiled guilelessly._ _

__They narrowed their eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”_ _

__Dorothea smiled. “Please do. He cares about you a lot, you know.”_ _

__Hubert swallowed heavily. “I know.”_ _

__Dorothea’s smile widened, a baring of teeth. “Don’t make him regret it.”_ _

  
__\---_ _

  
__After Hubert’s fourth day of wallowing, they could tell that Edelgard was fed up._ _

__Her lips were pressed together in irritation, chewed to bits because _Goddess knew neither of them were good at emotional conversation_. She wiped dirt from her hands onto a towel behind the counter, then pointedly made eye contact with them._ _

__“Hubert.”_ _

__They looked up from where they were mechanically reorganizing the tulips, large yellow petals obscuring their vision._ _

__“Yes?” They asked, tone cautious._ _

__Edelgard took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. “As your sister and someone who loves you,”_ _

__Hubert winced._ _

__“I think you should talk to him.”_ _

__Their eyes widened slightly, not expecting the bluntness of her delivery. Edelgard appeared mildly embarrassed, avoiding eye contact, lips curled into an awkward smile._ _

__“I- I,-” Hubert sputtered._ _

__At her knowing look, they faltered._ _

__“Lady Edelgard.” They said weakly. It was only a step away from pleading._ _

__Her smile crooked upward, sympathetic and genuine. “You’ve been listening to _My Chemical Romance_ for _three days straight_.” She smiled at them indulgently. “And everyone in the shop knows who you’re gone on. What are you waiting for?” _ _

__“He’s interested in someone else.” Their voice cracked. They glanced away, coughing to clear their throat, crossing their arms tightly in front of them._ _

__“Really.” Edelgard’s eyebrows were touching her hairline. “You’re _sure_.” _ _

__“Yes.” They said curtly._ _

__They heard her shift, the light jingle of her earring alerting them to her movement. The sunlight from the window glanced off her white hair, making it glow in their peripheral vision. Her steps echoed on the shop’s tile, slow and measured. She stopped mere inches away from them, hand extended, hovering inches above their forearm. Squashing her hesitation, she laid her hand firmly on their forearm, fingers cool and skin soft._ _

__“Hubert,” Her voice was careful. “you know he cares for you.”_ _

__“You’re the second person this week to say that exact thing.” Hubert’s said, voice deadpan. “I am aware.”_ _

__Edelgard tucked a loose wisp of her hair behind her ear. “It’s because I’m right.” She bit her lip. “As I said, as someone who cares for you, I cannot help but worry that,” She shook her head, searching for the correct words. “that Ferdinand being ‘taken,’ is an excuse.”_ _

__They were taken aback. They weren’t _lying_ to her. The idea that she thought they were hurt. She raised a palm before Hubert could speak. _ _

__“To yourself.” She took a deep breath. “I think it’s an excuse to yourself.”_ _

__Their throat tightened, a pit opening in their stomach. “Edelgard, you cannot _possibly_ \--” _ _

__“I know that you both cared for each other in high school.” At their surprised look, her expression turned slightly amused. “I _was_ there.” _ _

__They supposed they couldn’t refute her there. However --_ _

__“It was a teenage infatuation.” They said, voice deadpan. “It has been years.”_ _

__“You both _clearly_ still care for each other.” Edelgard rolled her eyes. _ _

__At their lack of adequate response, her voice softened. “You don’t think you deserve it.” She took another deep breath. “You think Ferdinand deserves better.”_ _

__The pit widened. Hubert felt as if they were on the edge of a precipice. Inches from solid ground. Inches from yawning darkness._ _

__Edelgard squeezed their forearm, warm emanating from her palm. It was grounding. An anchor in the midst of the unknown._ _

__“Ferdinand would disagree.” Edelgard moved her thumb in a circle, a small circle of warmth in the cold. “You _know_ that.” _ _

__She smiled, and suddenly Hubert felt seven years old again, her smile the bravest thing they’d ever seen. Her eyes were pinched, but bright._ _

__“We’ve taken enough decisions away from him.” She squeezed their arm again, then let go, a pulse of warmth running through them._ _

__“I think you should let him make this decision himself.”_ _

__She stepped away, walking back to the counter just in time to relieve an anxious Bernadetta before a customer walked in._ _

__Linhardt lazily stepped forward, tapping Hubert on the shoulder and claiming that it was his turn to _‘stare vacantly at the flower arrangements,’_ shooing them away to the backroom with a discerning gleam in his green eyes. Hubert couldn’t decide whether to thank him or punch him in the face. They supposed that it was a normal way to feel regarding Linhardt. _ _

__Looking blankly at the inventory list and the disorganized backroom, bags of potting soil clearly arranged in a position comfortable for napping, irritation with Linhardt steadily increasing, Hubert decided that they were going to take their break._ _

__They supposed that Edelgard’s words had a grain of truth in them. She had a skill for getting at the heart of things, even when said things weren’t things they had considered previously._ _

__They couldn’t deny the fact that Ferdinand deserved better. That they didn’t deserve him. That the high school affection they felt would ebb, and Ferdinand would be confronted with a Hubert he didn’t know -- didn’t want._ _

__Hubert now was Hubert in all their ugly glory, conniving, scheming, double-crossing sides all in full display. And Ferdinand deserved someone sweet, who would love him like he wanted to be loved, a romantic, someone who would cherish him. Someone who was _good_. _ _

__But, as Edelgard said, Ferdinand deserved to make his own decisions. They had already made far too many for him. And hadn’t Hubert seen that they’d guessed wrong? They’d thought completely cutting ties with Ferdinand would have been better, four years of radio silence, and yet. They were friends again. Ferdinand was _happy_ to see them. _ _

__If they’d guessed wrong then, when they were so _certain_ , what did that mean now that they were _uncertain_? _ _

__They knew that Dorothea knew something they didn’t about that _damned tattoo_ , but, as much as she poked, and prodded, and teased, she wanted the best for both of them. She wouldn’t have been so adamant if she had known it was a bad idea. _ _

__All of which meant that they had plenty of evidence pointing toward ‘telling him’ and only the nasty voice in their head in ‘don’t’. And, no matter how much they prided themself their logic and conclusions, the nasty voice’s opinion would never matter more than Edelgard’s. Or Dorothea’s, for that matter._ _

__The woman only wanted the best for Ferdinand, after all, and if she was encouraging them, they surely didn’t have much to lose._ _

__Of course, all this was well and good as they tried to convince themself of this in the backroom, but they felt that their adrenaline would peter out and leave them if they attempted to act on any of said plans._ _

__Hubert took a deep breath. If they had decided to make impulsive bad decisions, they were going to make impulsive bad decisions._ _

__They pulled out their phone and opened the messaging app. Crossing their fingers, they typed in Ferdinand’s high school phone number -- memorized after numerous failed college attempts to delete it and forget about him -- hoping that it wouldn’t have changed._ _

  
_To: Ferdinand von Aegir_

__

> _Hubert: Coffee tomorrow?_
> 
> _Hubert: Since Dorothea so rudely interrupted us this time._
> 
> _Hubert: Ah. This is Hubert, by the way._
> 
> _Ferdinand: I know!!_

  
__Their eyebrow ticked upward. Interesting._ _

> _Ferdinand: You really don't have to!_

  
__Hubert felt their heart sink. They watched the three gray dots of his message blink back and forth._ _

> _Ferdinand: But!! If you would like to try some tea, tomorrow would be lovely._

  
__They sighed in relief. Overthinking again._ _

> _Hubert: 11?_
> 
> _Ferdinand: Great!!_
> 
> _Ferdinand: I cannot wait to see you admit defeat and declare tea the superior drink._
> 
> _Hubert: Dream on._

  
Exiting out of the application, Hubert took a deep breath, staving of the immediate anxiety of the action.

They would tell him tomorrow.

If nothing else, they would have today.

  


\---

  
Hubert tapped their fingers against the plastic case of their phone, hesitating in front of Brigid Ink’s door, apprehension crawling across their skin. They and Ferdinand had plans to walk down to the cafe a few blocks away, as they both frequented it and had deemed their respective drinks satisfactory.

The bright bouquet resting at their elbow taunted them teasingly. Their initial plan to go forward with the outing in a completely platonic manner had been dashed by Linhardt, who’d noticed them _absentmindedly_ organizing a bouquet -- _which they had not created with Ferdinand in mind, thank you very much_ \-- and thrown it at them as they’d exited the door, with a snarky _‘have fun on your date--.’_ And. Well. They couldn’t have had it fall on the floor. So, now it was here. With them.

Really, calling it a bouquet was a bit much. It was a singular red rose _(which Ferdinand still insisted was a ‘classic’ gesture of romance)_ paired with a pink tulip, springs of eucalyptus filling it out, all tied together with a cream ribbon.

Hubert would have never called themself a romantic, but the bouquet in their hand combined with the sheer strength of their desire to make Ferdinand smile had them reconsidering.

Deciding that they were done being a coward, they pushed the door open, a waving Petra grinning at them.

“Good luck!” She whispered, beaming as she caught sight of their flowers.

Hubert firmly ignored the blush spreading across their face, returning her smile with a weak one of their own. They pushed past the beaded curtain, fingernails on their left hand biting into the soft flesh of green stems.

“Ferdinand?” Hubert glanced across the room, catching Ferdinand with his back to them, muscled arms pulling bright copper hair into a high ponytail.

At Hubert’s call, he turned around, a bright smile flashing across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hubert! Ah, one moment!” With a quick wrist movement, he pulled the remaining hair through the tie, bronze waterfall spilling from the crown of his head down his shoulders.

Hubert couldn’t help but be caught off guard by how _breathtaking_ Ferdinand was. And, while Ferdinand was usually stunning, no matter the situation, it was clear that he’d put effort into his outfit. Wearing a maroon short-sleeved button-up which stretched deliciously across his broad shoulders and light wash cuffed jeans, Ferdinand looked good enough to eat. Unobscured by his hair, gold swords dangled from his ears, glinting in the low light of the room. They hadn’t even known his ears were _pierced_.

“Hubert?” Ferdinand’s voice was tentative, a light flush rising to his face.

Embarrassed at being caught staring, Hubert could feel their face begin to burn, matching Ferdinand in front of them.

They coughed awkwardly. “You look nice.”

“Ah,” Ferdinand tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, curl gently framing his earring. He laughed, bright and easy, the slight anxiety in his tone dissipating with the smile on his face. “you look quite dashing yourself.”

Hubert glanced down at their Edelgard-curated outfit, black shirt with rolled up sleeves, black jeans. They couldn’t quite understand what about that constituted as _‘dashing’_ , but they knew better than to argue with Ferdinand.

Most of the time.

They nodded in acknowledgement, a soft _thanks_ escaping their lips, caught by Ferdinand and returned as a wide smile.

“Hm. Well, this is for you.” They extended the bouquet in front of them, practically throwing it into Ferdinand’s hands. Ah, yes, they needed to say something else. “They’re just flowers.” And promptly put their foot in their mouth. _No shit, they were flowers_.

Ferdinand didn’t seem to have noticed their blunder. His eyes had widened, locked on the bouquet now in his hands, with an unconscious smile spreading across his face, cheeks lightly dusted with pink. He’d dipped his head slightly forward, the tip of his nose brushing against a plush pink petal, feather-light and gentle.

“Thank you.” Ferdinand’s smile was like a star shower, bright, fleeting, and beautiful. His eyes curved into crescent moons. “They look lovely.”

Ignoring their steadily growing flush, Hubert cleared their throat. “I’m glad you like it.” They said stiltedly.

Ferdinand hummed, gently placing the bouquet on the counter behind him.

“Shall we?” Hubert asked, heart suddenly in their throat.

Like the sun peeking out from underneath the clouds, Ferdinand glowed. “We shall.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out and squeezed Hubert’s clammy hand before quickly withdrawing, the warmth a lingering caress. They both headed out the door, bidding a quick goodbye to a cheery Petra, and into the overwhelming heat of Adrestrian summer.

It was a beautiful day. The sky was an ink wash painting of sky blues and creamy ivory, the sun brilliant and damning in its gleaming ferocity, its furious shine scorching the land and the walkers beneath.

Hubert’s eyes were caught on the bead of sweat dripping down Ferdinand’s temple, tracing its way through four freckles in quick succession, curving gently back into his hairline before beading on the sharp curve of his chin, dripping down, down, _down_ onto the asphalt below.

It was infuriating how much they found this man endearing. He was prattling on about some inane story involving a little boy he taught horseback riding lessons to — which explained his muscles, _holy shit_ — and while years ago Hubert would have complained that Ferdinand’s exuberant hand gestures and dramatic tone were _annoying_ , now they made Hubert smile.

The change was uncalled for. Hubert was not _soft_. They refused to be. But, if they rounded their edges slightly, so someone could settle without being cut — that wasn’t so bad.

There was a lull in the conversation, and they both walked together in silence. The backs of their hands were brushing, each one stretching the contact, pressing firmly, not an inch between their wrists before they both broke apart to start again.

It was the rise and fall of the tide, unceasing, a ebb and flow. Hubert’s palm would glance across the pads of Ferdinand’s fingers, and as they stepped into the shade, only a lingering warmth would remain. Then, the sun would shine once again, and Ferdinand’s pinky would curl against Hubert’s thumb, cycle begun anew.

As the cafe entered their field of vision, the tension changed. Like the swell of a typhoon, Ferdinand’s hand drifted back, pulling away, leaving Hubert’s bereft, before surging forward, palm settled solidly against palm, tangling their fingers together as firmly as he had tangled himself up in Hubert’s heart.

Hubert chanced a look at his face, firmly staring in the opposite direction, red staining his ears and cheeks. Resolute, but for the tremble of his bottom lip. Hubert’s heart expanded with fondness. They squeezed his hand and basked in the resulting upward curve of his lip.

They both walked up the red brick walk-way into the _GoldBucks Coffee_ , which was ‘charmingly decorated,’ according to the barista Claude, with a giant-sized golden deer head by the front door. Unfortunately, the coffee was good, so Hubert had to keep subjecting their poor eyes to the hideous monstrosity that was ‘Rani Sona Hiran’, as the deer was lovingly named.

Ferdinand pulled away, the warmth of his fingers quickly vanishing, but the softness of his eyes keeping Hubert warm all the same. He pulled the door open, head bowed in a teasingly gentlemanly nod, left canine peeking out from underneath his lip.

“After you.” He said with a conspiratory wink, hand folded in the mimic of a bow. Hubert was abruptly reminded of Ferdinand’s King Arthur phase in middle school, where he had insisted on embodying the perfect noble. He’d joined Ashe in raving about books on knighthood, gotten extremely into proper etiquette, and insisted on prefixing people’s names with ‘lord’ and ‘lady.’  
Judging by Ferdinand’s smile, he was remembering it too.

(And _no_ , despite several damning photos that they’d made sure were no longer in Edelgard’s possession, Hubert had _not_ played along with it.)

They rolled their eyes, but walked through the door, Ferdinand swiftly slipping in behind them and closing the door.

“Any idea what horrendous concoction you’re going to make me try first?” Hubert drawled, mouth pinched slightly in a mixture of apprehension and disgust.

“If any drink is horrendous, it is most definitely coffee.” Ferdinand snarked back, voice huffy. “And yes. You?”

“Of course.”

They both walked up to the counter and were greeted by a cheerful Claude and apathetic Hilda. (Whom Hubert had not seen since before they had learned about the _‘stick and poke incident.’_ They wondered how much blackmail would be necessary to hear about how _that_ had ended up happening.) After exchanging the usual pleasantries, and then some, as the cafe was near empty, Claude remembered what they had all actually come there for.

“Hubert, Ferdinand -- what can I get you?” Claude clasped his hands together, an interesting smile on his face that Hubert had no desire to parse.

Ferdinand, of course, matched him grin for grin. “If I could have a black tea, Cinnamon Blend, please?”

“And I’d like a Noa Fruit Latte, please.” Hubert added briskly, pulling their wallet out preemptively.

“Alright, that’ll be about $6.50. They’ll be out in a minute.”

After a brief and exaggerated disagreement over who would pay, ending with Hubert the winner, but not before Ferdinand wrangled out a firm promise to pay _next time_ , whenever that was. (They also had studiously ignored Claude’s eyebrow gymnastics at said words. And any attempts to make further conversation, dragging Ferdinand over to an open table after grabbing their drinks.)

Now seated at a table at the corner of the cafe, relatively isolated from all other customers as well as the prying eyes of both Claude and Hilda, they swapped their respective drinks.

Ferdinand tilted his head, mouth pursed in thought. “Is there even a reward for winning this bet?”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “That confident, are you?”

“Despite the fact that I have full reason to be, as I _am_ the one with superior taste, I was simply asking out of curiosity.” He said in a mock affected tone.

“I don’t suppose we ever got around to it.” They shrugged. “Shall we set one now?”

He nodded. “The winner gets to ask one question of the loser and they must answer truthfully.” He said promptly.

At their surprised expression, he colored, tugging gently on his earring. “I thought about it already.”

Apprehension settled low in their stomach, but they brushed it off. They raised their cup, holding it above the middle of the table, waiting for Ferdinand to do the same before knocking their cups together.

“Cheers.” They said wryly. He simply grinned, watching Hubert lift the cup to their lips and taking the first sip in tandem.

The cinnamon blend tea was surprisingly good. Ferdinand had primarily drank floral teas when they were in high school, punctuated by the occasional fruit blend or his favorite Almyran Pine Needle. The cinnamon tea, however, was not floral. It was warm, and though not heavy like coffee tended to be, held a complex flavor that paired beautifully with the hint of heat from the cinnamon’s nature. Hubert hated to say it, but they had been beaten.

Across from them, Ferdinand seemed to be having a similarly religious experience. They both stared at each other in silence for a few moments, unable to believe that the other might have actually been _right_.

Ferdinand broke the silence first.

“This is _not_ that disgusting stuff you used to drink in high school.” His face was twisted in disgust, but his grip on the latte hadn’t slackened in the least. He took a second sip, almost unwillingly, before making a face. “How can coffee taste _good_?”

“Hmmm.” They grudgingly spoke. “This isn’t _nearly_ as flowery as I was fearing. The light heat to it almost makes it palatable.”

“Oh!” The triumphant look on his face was marred by a disappointed glance down at the cup of coffee in his hands. “Does this mean we both win?”

“Or we both lose.” Hubert stated dryly.

Ferdinand waved a hand. “Same difference.” He tapped a neatly filed fingernail against his cheek. “I suppose we can both ask a question?”

Hubert nodded. “You first.”

“Alright.” He straightened, easy cheer falling straight off his face with all the loudness of it falling and breaking against the checkered floor. He refused to meet Hubert’s eyes, enthralled with the wood grain of the table, the hand placed next to his cup trembling ever so slightly.

“Do you regret --” His breath pitched, like the rocking of a boat in a storm, and he started again. “Do you regret the end of our senior year?”

Hubert inhaled, the air stifling. They thought of Ferdinand’s smiles, his bright laugh and kind gaze, his hot temper and grandiose gestures, his warm presence, of him, him, _him_. They thought of his father, of Edelgard’s tears and numb pain, of Ferdinand’s own tears and upset, of how many people Ludwig von Aegir had hurt.

The truth hurt as much as it healed. “No. I don’t.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand’s voice trembled with something suspiciously close to heartbreak. Hubert felt like the scum of the earth.

“Ferdinand, your father --”

Ferdinand laughed, sound coming out hysteric and choked. “Not my _stupid father_ , for Goddess’ sake -- I’m talking about what you did to me!” His voice broke. “Do you regret _me_?”

Hubert’s breath caught. They scrambled forward, taking Ferdinand’s hand carefully in their own before he drew away further.

“Ferdinand, darling, of course I regret what I did to you.” They paused, attempting to collect their scattered thoughts, beginning again, stiltedly. “We-- I threw out everything I knew about you, and acted on some preconceived notion regarding how you would behave.”

They took in a rushed breath. “I left you when you most likely wanted me most. Is there anything left not to regret?”

Ferdinand made a noise that sounded like a choked sob. His face was tilted down, waves of copper gold from his ponytail forming a curtain around his face. His grip on their fingers was tight, _squeezing_.

He took a hiccuping breath. “Is it alright if I’m still mad at you?”

Their heart lurched painfully. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“And, is it alright,” The tears were audible in his voice. “if I’m still in love with you?”

Hubert’s heart stuck in their throat. “Ferdinand, _sweetheart_ , I love you.” They gasped a breath. “I cannot say how sorry I am, or how much I wish I had been even the slightest bit smarter, but I am here now, and if you would let me, it is here that would like to stay. With you.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand’s voice was a short, punched-out breath. He lifted his gaze, eyes wide and teary. Scrubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes, he blinked up at Hubert once again. “ _Oh!_ ”

He slammed his hand down on the table, half-out of his seat, palm wet with tears sticky against wood grain. Hubert looked up at Ferdinand warily, his face screwed up in an emotion they couldn’t parse. After a short moment of hesitation, Ferdinand lurched forward, his soft, pink lips pressing firmly against the corner of their mouth.

The touch lasted mere moments before Ferdinand pulled back, steps quick and worried. His bright eyes were filled with a mild panic, hands hovering in midair, as if he was worried his affection was unwelcome. Hubert wanted to wipe that look of his face. As if anything from Ferdinand would be unwelcome.

They reached up, fingers alighting gently on Ferdinand’s soft cheek, and pulled him into a proper kiss.

Hubert could taste Ferdinand's latte, sweet and fruity, against their lips. His lips were slightly chapped but soft and full, his taste familiar and perfect. Hubert wove their free hand into his hair, the amber curls silky and smooth against their touch. Ferdinand's hand had gently curled into Hubert's collar, his fingertips brushing feather light against Hubert's collarbone. He jerked back, allowing them both to take a split second breath, before biting back into Hubert's mouth, aggression taut in the line of his jaw.

The hand Ferdinand had in Hubert's collar tightened, wrinkling the fabric, fingers now pressed taut against skin. His lips were hungry, demanding and fierce, but warm and careful all at once. Hubert loosened their hand in Ferdinand's hair, fingers carding gently over the strands, thumb against his cheek stroking carefully over smooth skin. Ferdinand's urgency ebbed, kiss gentling until he slowly broke away, forehead touching Hubert's, breath warm against their spit-slick lips.

The moment was ruined by none other than the enthusiastic clapping of one Hilda Valentine Goneril.

"Congratulations!" She smiled at them widely, eyes scrunched shut, whites of her teeth shining. "Please never do that while I'm within eyesight again!"

Hubert could feel their ears heat and Ferdinand was no better, bright red spreading across the bridge of his nose. They both took a step back, hands dropping down to tangle atop the table. Looking up at Ferdinand’s embarrassed, _happy_ face, Hubert couldn’t help but smile.

Claude flashed them a quick grin.

“And not a day too late,” He leaned against the back cabinets, loose, spine curved in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable angle. His smile widened at Hubert’s skeptical look. “Dorothea owes me money.”

Opting to ignore him for their peace of mind, Hubert and Ferdinand grabbed their respective drinks and wished both Claude and Hilda a quick goodbye, though not without Ferdinand caving and handing an expectant Hilda an absurdly large tip.

Hubert and Ferdinand exited the cafe, hand in hand, arms swinging loosely between them. The sun, high in the sky when they had left, had heightened further, bright with the sky a piercing blues. The fierce light colored Ferdinand’s hair a vivid gold, curly ends swaying slightly in the wind. He looked like he belonged there under the noonday sun, bright and golden and lovely.

Hubert squeezed his hand. Then spoke, words stilted, tone carefully neutral.

“Ferdinand, in order to avoid further misunderstanding,” They paused, unable to avoid grimacing at the statement, then hastily continued. “I would like to… try again? _Properly_ this time.”

Ferdinand beamed at them, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek.

“That sounds wonderful.”

  


\---

  
Hubert stepped through the door of _Brigid Ink_ , ready to pick Ferdinand up and take the both of them home for the weekend. And take a nap. A long one.

They felt half dead on their feet. Was this how Linhardt felt all the time? They couldn’t imagine it. They simply wanted a warm boyfriend to cuddle and the comfort of their bed, with its softer-than-a-cloud memory foam pillows.

“Ferdie, darling, Hubie’s here!” Dorothea’s voice was bright and clear, cutting through the jingling of the bell. She gave Hubert a warm smile, leaning over the counter slightly to wave hello.

Hubert nodded back before promptly being distracted by the sight of their partner ducking through the curtain.

Ferdinand caught their eye and smiled wide, eyes crinkling. He was on the phone, exuberant tone present as he wrapped up his call.

“Thank you so much -- I will be by to see Lillie this weekend.” He hung up, then swiftly placed a gentle kiss on Hubert’s cheek, a small smile lighting his face. “Hello.”

Their lips quirked upward. “Hello.” They answered, deadpan. At Ferdinand’s exasperated look, they lifted an arm, allowing him to slot against their side.

They glanced back up only to see Dorothea’s amused smile morph into something more mischievous.

“Ferdie, have you taken Hubie to meet Lillie yet?” She asked, eyes wide, tone guileless.

“Oh!” Ferdinand clutched their arm tightly, immediately turning to face them. “Hubert, if you are free this weekend, I would love if you would come see her with me?”

Despite feeling secure in their relationship with Ferdinand, they couldn’t quite help but feel unsure about meeting the woman Ferdinand cared so much for that he had _tattooed her name on his arm_.

“Ah, but I know nothing about her?” They said helplessly. “Surely some background would be better before an introduction. I’m sure she hardly knows me either.”

Ferdinand frowned, brow creased in confusion. “I have spoken of her before…” He trailed off, tipping his head against Hubert’s shoulder, eyes closed in thought.

“She’s a chestnut mare, I have pictures on my phone --” Ferdinand stopped, along with Hubert’s brain.

While Ferdinand was busy unlocking his phone to pull up pictures of his darling horse, Hubert was revising their entire worldview.

Lillie was a _fucking horse_.

They levelled a heavy glare at Dorothea, who stared back unflinchingly. She smiled, kind and not-quite apologetic.

“Hubert?” Ferdinand’s voice was bewildered, eyes flicking back and forth between them and Dorothea. “Is everything alright?”

“You did it on purpose.” Their voice was dark.

“Yes.” She said calmly. “I needed you to get your head out of your ass and allow yourself a good thing.” She softened. “It wasn’t to hurt you -- you would’ve found out soon enough, after all. I just wanted both of my closest friends to be happy.”

Hubert faltered. “Hm. I suppose. Yes.”

“Not ‘I suppose’!” Ferdinand burst out indignantly. “What are you both talking about?”

“I was led to believe by our _dearest_ Dorothea that Lillie was a woman you were in love with.” Hubert stated blandly.

“Ah, ah, you came to that conclusion _entirely_ on your own. I just helped you along afterward.” Dorothea tutted, amused grin back in full force.

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “You thought,” He broke off, turning to glance at his tattoo. “Lillie was my -- _oh_.” Predictably, he started laughing. He kissed Hubert’s cheek again, the touch more a press of lips than a kiss due to his laughter.

“I apologize if the confusion caused you any distress, sweetheart, but you must admit it is quite amusing.” Ferdinand’s cold nose pressed against Hubert’s neck, the curve of his smile pressed to their collarbone.

Looking back, with the perspective gained by their now three-month relationship in mind — full of warmth and a feeling close to contentment — Hubert could agree.

They rolled their eyes anyway, straining against a smile.

“Yes, quite.” They pressed a kiss to the part of Ferdinand’s hair, breathing in the scent of citrus and lemongrass, and felt something within themself settle.

“Home?” Their voice was soft, the weight of Ferdinand against them like a puzzle piece clicking into place, edges painstakingly matched to create something beautiful.

Ferdinand pulled back, arms still pressed warm beside Hubert, just enough for his bright smile to shine up at them, eyes brighter than the setting sun.

“Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Thanks to my giftee for the fun prompt, as well as the server for the awesome opportunity --and I hope you all liked the fic!!


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